


The Personal Relationships Of King Stiles

by sourirs (sourirpourmoi)



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, sterekweek2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 15:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12510056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourirpourmoi/pseuds/sourirs
Summary: AU where Stiles is King and in love with Knight Derek of his kingdom.





	The Personal Relationships Of King Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet and just for Sterekweek2017!

Stiles is barely listening to Sir Deaton go on about the public’s demand regarding the royal ball. He’d ask the man later, when his mind wasn’t a steamy fog centered around the Knight who had just entered the room. His heart rate rose steadily and he was in a mess of emotions. He wanted so many things in that very instant, he wanted to launch himself at the man, to kiss him within an inch of his life, he wanted to hate him for making him worry so much. He wanted to touch him, passionately. Frenzied. 

His eyes burn down Sir Derek’s body, smirking when he catches sight of the way the man gulps. His neck shifts with the movement and all Stiles can think of is how he would very much like to trail that path with his tongue and simultaneously nuzzle his nose their in a gesture far too intimate for their relationship. .

Derek lifts an eyebrow at him, a sublte way of telling him he was being far too obvious. If anything, it makes him smirk even more but he relents, turning his attention once more to his secretary, all be it reluctantly. 

He tries to focus, he truly does. But focus and concentration is for a time when Stiles isn’t remembering Derek’s hands, hot and heavy on his skin, or his mouth making the lightest of marks on his chest. He can’t take it anymore.

“Sir Alan, I’m afraid I’m getting neither here nor there of the situation and I am currently just wasting all of my loyal subjects’ time.” He starts promptly, waving a hand to shush the reassurances and protests.

“What do you propose we do, Your Majesty?” Alan replies, his voice gentle though distant. It used to unnerve him, when he first took over the throne. But as time went on he realised, distant, cryptic and infuriating were just the default settings for Sir Alan and the man had turned out to be his second most trusted advisor.

He pretends to mull it over for a few seconds, frowning slightly and tapping his fingers. “I tell you what, I shall consult my advisor and perhaps we may meet again when my gaurdsmen aren’t dead on their feet, hmm? Go on, get you some good food and ale!” A round of agreeable laughter echoes through the hall and Derek smirks at him.

Deaton lowers his head in shame and Stiles takes a moment to hate himself. He hated acting that way, but it was needed, expected of him.

His men file out of the room, taking what feels like a millenia. Sir Scott gives him a perculiar look and Stiles notes to himself to ask the man about it and congratulate him of course on his new fatherhood.

When the clang of the doors shutting sounds Stiles sighs and leans his head back, closing his eyes and letting the tension bleed out of his posture.  
“My leige,” comes that deep hoarse voice and Stiles shudders as a soft kiss is placed on his neck. “What would you like my advice on?” Stiles opens his eyes and gets up from his chair. Derek doesn’t have anytime to react before Stiles has thrown his arms around the man.

“I thoughtyou injured. Or worse.” he whispers against his soft shirt. Derek’s hands settle on his waist, rubbing soothing circles. 

“Was His Majesty worried about me?” Derek replies in his ear, his voice like silk making his body tingle. He brings one hand up to cup his jaw and Stiles is left breathless by intensity of Derek’s gaze.

“Yes, you complete ass.” 

Derek chuckles and Stiles can’t help but glance at the man's lips, needing to feel them against his own. It doesn’t go unnoticed. Derek’s eyes darken with lust and his tongue flicks out. His hands travel lower and he picks Stiles up, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Their lips collide and Stiles tugs on Derek’s hair, gentle is for a time when Stiles hasn’t been missing Derek for that past four weeks. When he hasn’t been going out of his mind with worry.

Derek’s hand’s squeeze slightly and Stiles can’t help the soft moan he lets out.

“We’re going to get caught.” Derek mumbles against him, tongue tracing his bottom lip in a way that makes him want to groan at the pleasure.

“No one would dare interrupt the king.” Stiles manages as he grips Derek’s shoulders, grinding against him.

Derek groans and drops his head onto Stiles’ shoulder, mouthing at his neck.

“Fuck, I really missed you, you oaf.” 

“Kiss your father with that mouth?” Derek replies, as though thinking and speaking coherently was anything near easy with the way Derek laps at his skin.

“No but I’ll suck your cock.” 

“Oh god. We’re going to get caught.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you fool.”

“Anything you want, Your Majesty..”


End file.
